“Did you know Nigel was involved?” I asked.
He settled on the windowsill. “He visited a lot when you were a baby.”
“Did he ever say anything about my parents?”
“He trusted them to raise you,” Joe said.
“No, I meant my biological parents.”
“Oh. Not that I remember. Connor, you seem upset.”
“I just found out my parents aren’t my parents. It changes things, doesn’t it?”
He shrugged. “I don’t see how. Tom and Mom are bestest parents. You could have got stuck with mine.”
“They did name you Stinkwort,” I said.
He tilted his head at me. “Exactly. Really, who cares, Connor. We end up who we are for a lot of reasons.”
“What if it turns out that Meryl and I are brother and sister?” I asked.
“What if you are?” he asked.
I glanced down at him, wondering if he were that indifferent to the ramifications. He smirked at me. “Okay, fine, I’m overthinking the situation,” I said.
“Again,” he said.
“Well, I’d like to do a little of that alone. Can you give me some space?” I asked.
“I’d say you have enough space between your ears, but I know how crowded it is in there.”
“Thanks. Come get me if I’m not back when the surgery’s over,” I said.
He winked at me and popped out. I stretched out on a couch and stared at the ceiling. People walked by the door, their body signatures growing and fading as they went about their business. Someone entered the room, a Danann fairy with a strong signature. I shifted on the couch to see who it was. From behind, the man’s wings obscured his features. The wings were huge, multilayered, and vibrant with essence. Even without his fey aspect, he was physically imposing, tall, and muscular. He seemed to be waiting for someone. I settled back and closed my eyes.
I snapped them back open when I sensed the shot of essence. As I sat up, the Danann put the finishing touches on an essence barrier across the door. When he faced me, a shiver went over me, one part surprise, one part fear.
“Brion Mal,” I said.
An assured, maybe smug, smile crossed his face. “I’m flattered you recognize me,” he said.
Flattered, as if he couldn’t possibly know his fame among the fey. Brion Mal was leader of the High Queen’s Fianna, the greatest fighting force in the world. When people talked about elite fairy warriors, they spoke of Danann security agents with their menacing black outfits and blank silver helmets that hid their identities. They spoke about ability levels they could only dream of having. They spoke in tones either hushed in awe and fear or raised in anger and bitterness. When Danann security agents talked about elite fairy warriors, they spoke of the High Queen’s Fianna.
The Fianna served the Seelie Court, regardless of High Queen or King. They came from ancient clan lines, the sons and daughters of powerful leaders and warriors. Their reputations preceded them, They didn’t hide their faces behind masks. They wanted people to know who they were. The mention of their names instilled fear and dread in whomever the Fianna targeted.
“Somehow, I don’t think you’re here for my brother,” I said.
“Your brother concerns me even less than you do,” he said.
Whatever his intention, he was going to succeed. I didn’t think I was a match for Brion Mal even at the peak of my abilities. I didn’t bother activating my body shield. He would break through it with ease and leave me bruised in the process. That didn’t mean I was going to go down without a fight. I rubbed my calf, using the nervous gesture to bring my hand near my dagger.
“Don’t struggle,” he said.
I never touched my dagger. Essence leaped from his fingers, a fine mesh that spiraled through the air and settled over me. The binding immobilized me without pain. Mal didn’t need pain to control me. He blew a deep breath at me, the binding shivered, and my mind clouded. I was asleep before I finished falling off the couch.
27
I woke up in a room about ten feet square that was sheathed in glass and steel. Stretching, I dropped my feet from the bed to the floor in the empty surroundings. From the small size and low ceiling, I guessed I was in a safe house, one of many the Guild had scattered around Boston and its suburbs. Safe houses were two-edged swords. Good to be in when someone was hunting you down. Bad to be in when the Guild didn’t want anyone to know what it was doing to you. Under the circumstances, the latter was more likely, so not so good for me. At least, I had gotten some sleep, and I wasn’t dead.
From the inside, holding cells looked the same, so I had no idea where I was. Unlike the police, the Guild needed safe havens with the added level of glass-and-steel sheathing, which slow down someone with essence ability and give the guards time to defend the room. Cost wasn’t an issue, but secrecy was. It wasn’t easy building one without the neighbors’ noticing. The Guild didn’t like abandoning them unless they had good reason.
I didn’t have to wait long to find out what I was doing there. The door opened, and Ryan macGoren entered without ceremony. He raised an essence barrier between us, dividing the room in half. He wasn’t taking any chances. I didn’t blame him after our last encounter, but the barrier said more about macGoren’s paranoia than about the threat I posed. He was a Danann at the height of his ability. I had a stone in my head.
MacGoren had been injured in the catalyzing event of the Guildhouse destruction. He bore scars from a blast of pure essence that had hit him. His once-handsome face, which had turned heads on the fey social scene, had been scorched smooth. The bones of his cheeks stood out, hard-edged and bleached. His hairline had been burned back, the hair that he had prided himself on was now an odd sweep of blond that hung lank from the top of his head. The most dramatic change, though, was that his eyes had crystallized. The same thing had happened to me, but only my irises had been affected. With macGoren, the eyes had vanished beneath an almost insectlike faceted layer of glittering membrane over the entire surfaces.
Beyond his previous good looks, I never understood what Keeva saw in him. His power was obvious, but Keeva had the looks and brains to attract anyone. Yet she chose macGoren.
MacGoren managed to retain his smug arrogance. “I hope you’re not comfortable.”
I faced him through the barrier. “What do you intend to do, macGoren? Word’s going to get out that I’m missing. There will be fallout.”
He snorted. “Fallout? You staged a major terrorist act on the Guildhouse. Do you think the public is going to rally to your pathetic cries of innocence?”
“The State Department might have a problem with Brion Mal kidnapping an American citizen,” I said.
His smile made stippled lines in his cheeks. “Do you think we would have used someone as high-profile as Mal if we were worried about the human government?”
MacGoren had brought Vize into the Guildhouse despite my warnings. He didn’t listen to me then. He wasn’t going to now. “I tried to stop you from making a fool of yourself. Enough witnesses survived that know you were the one who let Vize in and I was the one who tried to stop you.”
His eyes shifted, a disconcerting movement that left me with nothing to focus on. He could be staring at me or the wall behind me. “No one cares, Grey. The Elven King is dead. Maeve has won. No one will criticize anything she does. We attacked that traitor Eagan in his own home with human support without any repercussions. You don’t matter. You’re a clean-up detail.”
While we talked, I scanned the barrier. A good punch with a full body shield sometimes collapsed a barrier, but macGoren knew what he was doing. The barrier was stable, without any flaws. “If I don’t matter, then why am I here?”
He chuckled. “Ah, but that’s thing, Grey. You’re not here. You’re not anywhere. You went into hiding by your own choice.”
“You’re going to keep me locked up? As usual, macGoren, your plans are pointless. Stop the games and let me out. If what you or Maeve says is true,
prove it in public,” I said.
If possible, his stiff face became more unreadable. “You think I am pointless, that I am a fool. Do you have any idea who you are looking at, Grey? I am one of the most powerful fey in the Seelie Court now. Brion Mal does my bidding. I have exposed the Teutonic Consortium in an act of war. No human government will ally with them now. I have given my queen her greatest victory since Convergence. She is well pleased.”
“You know the problem with making a queen happy, macGoren? It’s only a matter of time before you make her unhappy. Maeve’s used you.”
He laughed. “You think I don’t know that? That is what loyal subjects do, Grey. We exist to serve our liege. That’s something you seem to have forgotten.”
“Oh, I haven’t forgotten. I was never her subject, macGoren. I have better things to do than lick someone’s boots.”
“It’s that perspective that makes you a failure, Grey, why you have always been a failure. When you garner as much favor as I have, you acquire power. The trick, which you have never learned, is to earn enough power to become untouchable. I have Maeve’s favor. With the Elven King gone, nothing stands in her way. She needs me more than ever, and I will not fail her.”
“This isn’t Faerie. It isn’t even Ireland,” I said. “Even if the humans side with her against the Consortium, they might have a problem with a queen using a U.S. city as her playground.”
His eyes glittered with a yellow light. “You misunderstand, Grey. Maeve is done with you. The Elven King has been exposed. She no longer needs to lay blame at your feet. You have outlived your usefulness.”
“Great. It’s nice to know she’s moved on. Now what do you want?” I asked.
MacGoren lifted his arm to show me a dagger—my dagger, the one Briallen had given me. “Justice. Revenge. Call it what you like.”
“Are you kidding me? You’re threatening me?”
MacGoren held the dagger up, focusing his strange eyes on it. “Not at all. I’m stating the facts of the situation,” he said.
With the speed that comes with the nature of a Danann, he swiped the dagger through the protection barrier, then back. I flinched, the slice of the blade leaving a stinging sensation on my cheek. I touched my face, and my hand came away with blood. Belatedly, my body shield activated.
“That was childish,” I said.
“This blade is quite interesting, Grey. Ancient, if I’m not mistaken.” He jabbed forward. It pierced my shield and nicked my ear. I backed away, putting as much distance as possible between myself and the barrier.
MacGoren returned his attention to the dagger. “It may appear that my vision is damaged, Grey, and in some sense it is. They say when one sense is deadened, the others compensate. Take now. I see strange essence on this blade that I am sure is not visible to others. Notice the way it slices through the essence barrier as if it weren’t there.”
He swept his arm in front of me. My shield creased and crackled with white light. He stepped back. “I was under the impression from Nigel that you no longer had a body shield.”
“There’s a lot about me you don’t know,” I said.
He pursed his lips. “True, but here’s something I can guess.” He held his free hand up and pressed against the barrier. His palm glowed with pale fire, and the barrier shimmered toward me. MacGoren stepped forward. “I’m willing to wager that your offensive abilities remain ineffective.”
I steadied my gaze at him. “Drop the barrier and find out.”
I didn’t see him move. Beneath my open jacket, the fabric of my T-shirt split with another swipe of the blade. MacGoren kept up that annoying chuckle of his like he was a cat playing with a mouse. “I’m sure you think you can best me in a physical contest, Grey, but I am not interested in a test of strength. I am interested in watching you suffer.”
He stabbed again. I gasped and clutched at my arm. The swipe had cut through the leather to hit skin. “Coward,” I said.
The door opened behind him. Keeva paused on the threshold, her expression alert and assessing. MacGoren cocked his head without turning. “Hello, love. I did not expect you for another hour or so.”
“Obviously,” she said.
Her manner indicated that Keeva didn’t know what was going on. She wasn’t in on his plan. He covered his discomfort with a feigned pleasantness that I saw through easily. I knew Keeva had to see it, too. “How did you know I was here?” he asked.
She held up my old steel dagger. “This looked a little lonely. I was curious.”
“I’m settling some old scores with our guest,” he said.
Several emotions crossed her face—annoyance, anger, and, oddly, I thought I sensed fear. “I have a few myself,” she said.
A sending fluttered through the room. MacGoren gave her a curious look, and, for several moments, sendings fluttered back and forth between them. MacGoren nodded with an understanding smile. “As you wish, my love. I’ve made my point, but you deserve the honor more than I.”
With a flip of his wrist, he presented the handle of the dagger to her. Keeva stared at it, turning the weapon in her hand as if she had never seen a dagger before. She lifted her gaze and met my eyes. “It comes to this.”
“This isn’t your thing, Keeva. You don’t work like this. Let me out of here,” I said.
“You almost killed my child, Connor. How can I forgive that?” she asked.
“It was out of my control, Keeva. I didn’t know what I was doing. When I realized what I was doing, I stopped,” I said.
She moved within striking range, a step in front of macGoren. His faceted eyes glittered with a hungry anticipation. “How does it feel, Grey, to finally face the consequences of your actions?” he asked.
“Keeva, listen to me,” I said.
She shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes. “It has to be done.”
I fell back in shock as she whirled and plunged the dagger into macGoren’s chest. Essence flashed off him, and the barrier went static with feedback. MacGoren staggered back; his jaw dropped in shock. He hit the wall and held himself there for a moment, hand held out to Keeva. She raised her own hand and shot essence into the dagger protruding from his chest. MacGoren convulsed and slid to the floor. She stood over him, her back to me, shots of red spiraling in her agitated wings. I struggled to find my voice. “Keeva?”
She silenced me with a cutting gesture. We watched as macGoren’s body signature pulsed and faded, cycling darker until it became a dull haze. Keeva reached down and withdrew the dagger. She deactivated the barrier between us. “Keeva, why? What the hell are you involved in?”
She leaned down again and slid my steel blade into macGoren’s wound. “Don’t talk, Connor. Don’t say a word,” she said.
“But, you could have….”
She slammed me against the wall, her eyes blazing. She pressed my other dagger against my chest. “I said don’t talk. I did what needed doing. Now take this and get out of here.”
I took the dagger, and she shoved me aside. “What should I say about this?”
She turned away, gathering essence into her hands. “Since I was the only one who knew you were here, I suggest you say nothing.”
“Keeva, you killed him in cold blood, and now you’re planting evidence using my dagger. I’m not going to take the fall without an explanation.”
She released an essence burst to cleanse her body signature from the room, leaving behind a sterile ozone odor. She stepped up to me again. “You want an explanation? You were seconds away from your own death, and no one knows you were here. I saved your life. That’s the only explanation you’re going to get from me. Don’t make me regret my decision any more than I do. Now get out.”
“But….”
“Go!” she screamed.
28
Outside the holding cell was a short hall, a door open to another cell, and a staircase. I ran up the stairs into a typical suburban kitchen, barren of any signs of someone’s living there. My cell phone and keys lay
on the table, a subtle hint of Keeva’s body signature on them. It was almost three in the morning by the clock on the stove. I turned off the lights when I saw my reflection in the window. The backyard became visible, a small square of grass surrounded by a weathered stockade fence. Neighboring houses crowded near, triple-deckers and old wooden hovels with Victorian details. The yard had no exit.
Down the hall, I peered through the sidelight windows of the front door and recognized the general area. I was somewhere in Dorchester, the large neighborhood south of Boston proper. Nothing moved on the dark street, and the surrounding houses showed no lights. I slipped out as quietly as possible.
Despite my racing heart, I forced myself to a nonchalant walk. I didn’t want a casual observer becoming suspicious. I pulled my jacket closed to hide the torn and bloody T-shirt. A block later, I took out my cell and called Meryl. “Can you pick me up?”
“I don’t pick people up. I make them desire me, then reject them for being needy,” she said.
“I’m in a bind here,” I said.
“Really? You mean you aren’t disturbing me at work because you went grocery shopping?” she asked.
“You’re at work? It’s 3 A.M.,” I said.
“Shoot. I forgot to eat my lunch,” she said.
“Can we get back to my apparently unimportant desperation?” I asked.
“Where are you?” she asked.
A few cars passed the large cross street ahead. I recognized a deli on the corner. “You know where Georgie’s is on Dot Ave? Oh, and I could use a shirt.”
“Be there in ten.”
I made myself inconspicuous near a silver electrical box on Dorchester Avenue. Dot Ave was to Dorchester what Oh No was to the Weird, only longer. It stretched through eight or nine subneighborhoods, old villages that became home turf to various waves of immigrants. At any given time in its history, two or three gangs controlled the street, making it, depending on perspective, safe or dangerous. It was like that before and after Convergence. No matter the time period, urban cycles of prosperity and poverty repeated. It didn’t need the fey to do it. It made me realize that all the crap I stressed about, the empty promises of the governing powers, the endless grind of lives unfulfilled, were as much simply the nature of life as they were symptoms of social decay.
Undone Deeds cg-6 Page 17
